Asylum
by tarajcl
Summary: Set in Armada.(Slashfic) asylum: 1. sanctuary; refuge and safety; a place of refuge 2. a home for the insane.


Wanted to do something with these two. That, and Cyclonus crawled into my head, kicked me between the eyes and demanded fic. Hey, _you_ wanna try arguing with the little runt? Sorta fits in with my other stuff, but not really necessary to read that first. Enjoy? ((blinkblink; runs away))

"Cyclonus is starting to look like the only sane one."

Demolisher.

Asylum

He shut his optics off.

Then he reactivated them, stuck on the friendliest expression that any Decepticon was capable of and gave it his all.

As he did, the tall blue mech standing opposite did not alter his expression one iota.

If asked, Cyclonus would have had to admit that the chances of this working were in the negative zone. But then, so were the chances of them capturing every Minicon on the planet and making it back to Cybertron in one piece, but Megatron still seemed to think that was possible. Really, if you considered all the crazy things the moon-based Decepticon team usually attempted, this looked positively sane by comparison.

"Hey! Ambulance-boy!"

He heard himself speak, and winced_. Gonna have to come up with sumthin' better than that,_ he thought blackly. _Lessee…_ _Red?__ No. R.D.? 'Lert? Redster? Ick._

Ambulance-boy would have to do, for now.

"So, yeah. You. Hey, watcha doin'? Anything fun? No, probably not", he realized sadly, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. "You're an Autobot, after all."

He trailed off pathetically, wondering how in the infernal pit he had managed to get himself into this situation.

_Still, not _really _unusual for you, is it Cyc? Taking into account all the stupid things you've done with your existence so far, this is just another normal day for you, isn't it? Are you going to try again, or are you gong to just keep standing there looking like a dork with your mouth flapping open?_

_Why am I doing this?_

It wasn't as though the Autobot medic was at all attractive. Okay, so maybe he did have cool hand-gun thing. And maybe he did have a, yes, an interesting mouth, one that somehow managed to look so straight and neat all the time but looked so darn pretty when it did quirk upwards in a quiet smile.

But that wasn't the point.

The point was that…that…

Damn. What was the point again?

Well. One of the points was that…well, he_ did_ have a nice hand-gun thing. And he was a pretty good shot. Better than Cyclonus by far, and probably better than Thrust if it came to it. And he was an okay fighter. Better than okay. A great fighter, actually, if it came down to it. Of course, Cyclonus amended quickly, he was nothing compared to _him._ Hah, an Autobot, better at brawling than a Decepticon. Ri-di-culous.

Even, the 'copter-bot heard himself think, if he _had_ managed to shoot Cyclonus down almost as many times as he'd been shot down. And even if he did have an interesting…a nice mouth. And a pretty optic band. And didn't look like he was enjoying himself when he sent twenty-five rounds into Cyclonus's propellers.

_Wuss_

_Concentrate, slaggit. This is important._

_Why was it important?_

He didn't know. But then, he had long ago forgotten why fighting the Autobots was so important, either. Fun, sure, always. Reason for living, sure, meaning, purpose, all that stuff which Cyclonus would otherwise lack. But important? Like, really important? Like, as important as a nice explosion important? Nah.

It was important. He didn't know why it was important. And, as was the case with most things, he didn't care. Why was he doing this…?

…Krell, it might be fun. Might be more than sitting on one's behind all day, waiting for another Minicon to activate. Not that Cyclonus didn't always leap with joy whenever it did. But…well…ah, nuts. Forget it.

_I'm doing this. So there._

_You can't do this. _

_Oh yeah! Just watch me!_

Smirking triumphantly, he turned to face his adversary again. Luminous red looked back at him through the darkness, pretty-pale mouth giving nothing away.

_Get a grip, dammit. It's only ambulance-boy._

_You think I can't do this? I'll show YOU!_

"So, what's up, huh? You done anything interesting lately? Fixed anything new? Built anything new? You build stuff, right? I figured. You looked like the kinda guy who builds stuff. Well, that and you're a medic, right? All medics can build stuff. Trust me, I know, I've met tons of 'em. Weeell…they're all Decepticons, so maybe they operate differently. Y'know? But you look like the kinda guy who can build stuff. Right?"

Once he had begun, the words just rolled from his mouth as easily as always. As the absurd grin got bigger and the excitement in his voice started to become genuine, Cyclonus was surprised to discover that he was actually enjoying this.

"Hey, I gotta question. What's with those brats you keep hauling around with you everywhere? I mean, they're puny! I could kill 'em by stepping down hard enough. What's up with that? Just, y'know, you seem like a sensible guy. Well, compared to the other guys I know, you're pretty sensible. So why bother with the fleshies? It's just weird, that's all. Hey, wanna go blow something up? Nah, that wouldn't be your thing, would it. Okay, so, what? Wanna go…I dunno, whadda Autobots do? Look at a nice view or something like that? 'Cause I know a couple of places that's good for that! Don't tell the other guys, though, alright? I mean, it's not the kinda thing a Decepticon's 'sposed to do in their free time. Doesn't…sound right. Hey! There's an idea! Let's fight. C'mon, I dare ya! You can get the first shot, if ya want."

A soft, scrabbling noise from behind him and the 'copter-bot whirled in horror. He yelped at the sight of Demolisher, standing behind him with his arms folded and an…yes, definitely, an amused look on his face. Slag.

"Cyc, you know you only get weirder?"

"Demmy!" His voice, always high-pitched, now leapt to a squeak. He scrambled forward to try and conceal his companion behind his back. "Demmy! I-I wasn't doing nothing, just, ah, just…ah, dammit…"

He watched the larger Decepticon shake his head and sigh in resignation.

"Cyc, you're standing in the middle of a deserted training field two miles from base talking to a hologram. I know you like training but this is kind of dumb, don't you think?"

Double slag. The orange bot scowled. He hated it when Demolisher used that voice, all weary and confused and without an ounce of real _understanding…_

He folded his arms and said, "Oh, yeah? What's it to you?"

No dice. The look on Demolisher's face just became even more exasperated with the madness of his older comrade.

"Cyc. What are you doing?"

Brief panic flitted across Cyclonus's face as he looked nervously from the unmoving hologram of the Autobot Red Alert to Demolisher. Demolisher rolled his optics. Cyclonus had always been the better liar of the two. Except when it came to lying to Demolisher.

"Uh…nothing! I was just…um…it was…I'm not…"

Demolisher gave up.

"Cyc. Forget it."

The other threw him a pained look, all attempt at façade melting away. "You're not going to tell Megatron about this, are ya?" he pleaded in a whine that made reasonable people want to kill small animals. "'Cause he'd flip out."

_And this has bothered you since, when?_ thought Demolisher, and said, "I said forget it. I ain't telling Megatron."

At this, immense, yet quickly concealed gratitude swamped Cyclonus's face. It wasn't often Demolisher put something before Megatron.

Unknown to Cyclonus, it was precisely for Megatron's sake that Demolisher had no plans to mention this. Well, technically it was for the good of the Decepticons…which basically amounted to the same thing. If Megatron knew, he would either get decidedly distressed at the latest sign of insanity in his team, or very, very angry. Although Demolisher suspected the former, either reaction could only end badly.

As Cyclonus himself had once said, there was no morale whatsoever left clinging to the corners of the Decepticon base. There was…something, though, although Demolisher would have been hard pressed to identify it. Whatever it was it seemed to work. Well enough to keep six Decepticons facing up against eight Autobots relatively in one piece so far, at least. (Well. Ten Decepticons, actually, Demolisher amended, since the latest batch of reinforcements. And nine Autobots, now that Starscream (and here Demolisher grimaced) had joined the Brotherhood of Primary Colours. Plus an almost infinite number of Minicons, of course. But still.)

By now, Cyclonus had been reduced to babbling. It was a default technique, often employed by the potentially dangerous to keep themselves out of trouble with the potentially lethal.

"You promise? Gee, thanks Demolisher! I owe you one!"

And that was a big thing, too. When a Decepticon, even one as deranged as Cyclonus, said he owed you one, it meant that he _owed_ you one. Demolisher wasn't sure what frightened him more. The thought of having Cyclonus indebted to him, or the way that Cyclonus was still hovering just a little bit too close to that damn hologram.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Whatever. Hey, Cyc? You wanna turn that thing off?"

Cyc's grin dropped a few notches. "Guess I do…"

He turned back to the picture-perfect image of the Autobot medic, staring at him for a few seconds with what looked to Demolisher like no expression at all.

Then he balled his fists, snapped around in a violent, oddly graceful movement and fired off two shots at the hidden hologram-stimulator, gleaming where it lay embedded on the rocks. There was a splendid array of coloured lights and electricity as the device blew up. The Autobot image wavered, flickered and disappeared.

Demolisher looked back at Cyclonus as the orange Decepticon turned back to him with a plaster grin.

"You wanna get back to base?"

"Sure."

"You know Megatron's not going to be too happy about that little mess, right?"

"Sure."

Demolisher sighed. As they moved off, he spared the stimulator's remains one final look, before following after his team mate.

As tank and helicopter arrived back at base, a dull, droning siren greeted their audios. A Minicon signal.

Demolisher watched the slow, mad grin crawl over Cyclonus's face, before the helicopter threw back his back and shouted with delight, bursting back into the moon base with an ungainly sprint.

"Hey, Demolisher, hurry up, wouldya? We've got Autobots to slag!"

Demolisher followed the fading words of his comrade into the base, as the others made their way to the warp gate.

_I live with maniacs. And I don't even _care_ anymore._

9999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999

Red Alert looked up. Just that second too late.

The missile threw him sideways, not causing any life-threatening damage, but certainly offering reassurance that life-threatening damage could be arranged at any time.

The medic muttered to himself, and groped for his gun. As he did so, a shadow dropped over his body, and he looked up in dismay at the sight of a whirling propeller blade, as Cyclonus came down for one last victory swoop.

As he neatly ducked all three parting shots, pressing himself down against bare rock as the 'copter swung around overhead, he could have sworn he heard a voice hailing him from above. A familiar, giggling voice.

"Hey there, ambulance-boy!"

And then he was gone, leaving Red Alert staring up at the skies in bewilderment.

"Red Alert? Are you alright?"

The sound of Optimus Prime's concern pulled at his attention, but did not quite succeed at pulling away his gaze. For a moment he continued staring, before shaking the dust from his frame and moving to join his team once again.

"Yes. I'm fine, Optimus."


End file.
